Chapter Twenty-Four Dominic
Chapter Twenty-Four
Dominic
I clench my teeth, bristling at the sight of the other Shadowbane.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Inana says, taking the words from my mouth.
“Get in the back,” I shout, and pull the horses to a stop. “Please, Inana.” She must be surprised by please, for she obeys without argument for once. “Calvin?”
“It’s no good,” he says, leaning to the side to peer around the wagon. He faces forward. “They’re still behind us, but looking more agitated now.”
Shit. That means I can’t reverse the wagon without risking being caught in a frenzy sparked by Henderson’s Summoners. Because of course this is a fucking trap.
My eyes fall on the hands of one of the Summoners, my gaze drawn to what they hold.
I expect artistic tools, but…it’s a bow nocked with an arrow.
That can’t be what fascinated the Shades, though it might be what’s riling them up now.
One of them, however, must be performing some art.
Humming or singing or perhaps telling stories like Inana does.
I can’t see any of their lips moving behind their masks, but it makes the most sense.
It’s something we can’t hear over the sound of the river but the Shades can sense.
Something we can’t see, to know whom to target should we seek to stop them.
I release a growling breath, having no choice but to humor whatever the hell this is.
Henderson clearly planned this well. I should have known better when he gave me the letter concerning my next post, but I authenticated it with the church.
Even if I suspected a trap, I had little choice but to obey my orders.
So what is Henderson’s goal tonight? Shadowbanes take vows not to directly harm one another, to prevent competition between Shadowbanes vying for their patron’s nomination.
Is he willing to risk breaking his vows, risk disqualification from next year’s nomination? Does he hate me that much?
He stops several paces away. His armed Summoner keeps their arrow nocked but doesn’t fully draw their bow.
It’s rare to see a Summoner armed. Most Shadowbanes don’t trust their crew enough.
Anger courses through me, but it’s directed at myself.
I’ve never armed my crew. Partly from lack of trust, but even those who’ve proved loyal…
it just never occurred to me they’d be in a situation where I couldn’t protect them.
When our only foes are Shades, and regular weapons are useless for dispersing them, it never made sense before.
Now, as we’re faced with an unmistakable threat from our own kind, I despise myself for not foreseeing such a possibility.
Henderson raises his hands, palms forward. The snow has begun to fall harder, creating a haze of fluttering white between us. “I’m here to talk, Graves, that’s all.”
“That’s not what it looks like,” I bite out.
“That’s all it will be if you cooperate. I think you have some idea of what I want.”
“I haven’t a fucking clue.”
“Come down here and have a chat, and I’ll tell you my terms.”
His terms. Like he’s the one with the upper hand.
I have the high ground with my wagon. If I wanted, I could snap the reins and run them down.
The archer could shoot me or the horses first, and there’s room for them to leap out of the way.
Still, we could flee. But the violence could trigger a frenzy, and since I don’t see any sign of Henderson’s wagon, it’s likely blocking the road ahead. Maybe with more Summoners.
Fuck.
Perhaps he does have the upper hand.
“Why should I humor your demands?” I ask, keeping my voice even to hide my growing unease. “You can’t directly harm me without risking disqualification from Prince Leeran’s nomination.”
“True,” Henderson says. “I may not be able to inflict violence upon you, but I can hurt them.” He angles his head, and I realize he means my crew.
“See this?” He kicks something with the toe of his shoe, and a glass vial catches the moonlight.
That’s when I see the shapes drawn in the snow.
No, not just the snow. On the bridge itself.
A ritual circle. He’s carved a fucking astrotheurgical diagram into the godsdamned bridge.
That’s blasphemy. Shadowbanes are forbidden from drawing diagrams anywhere permanent, to prevent common folk from stumbling upon the sacred symbols.
Only the church can etch the circles onto the Holy Braziers and our swords.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Henderson says, his smile so amused I want to slice it off his face.
“I’ll clean up after myself. What’s most pressing is what this means for you.
If my Summoner shoots his arrow into that crowd of Shades, they’ll stir into a frenzy and rush your wagon.
Meanwhile, I will crush this vial of blood and light the circle, keeping us safe on this side.
Understand we’ll have to shoot anyone who crosses through the light, in case it’s a Shade. ”
His threat has my teeth grinding. He seeks to strand us on the bridge, between dangerous Shades and his archer’s arrows. His crew can’t be blamed for anyone they accidentally harm during an active Shade attack. And it wouldn’t count as Henderson directly harming me.
Henderson speaks again. “Think you can defend yourself and your crew against that many Shades? Or do you perhaps not give a shit? I’m interested to see how this plays out, since I’m partial to believing the latter.
So many of your Summoners wind up dead. I had a nice talk with one of your last ones.
Aelfred, I think it was? He told me some curious things about you. ”
My blood goes cold. I know all about what happened with Aelfred. I bear the burden of his life on the edge of my blade.
“That’s what happens when you take outlaws as Summoners,” Henderson says.
“Aelfred said you offered him freedom from the continent instead of Absolution. I, on the other hand, offered him a place on my crew the next time we met if he gave me pertinent information. And yet the next time I see you, you’ve got a whole new set of Summoners. Coincidence?”
Calvin’s eyes burn into the side of my face.
Not with accusation, for he too knows what happened with Aelfred.
It’s with worry. Henderson has discovered too much about me.
Even without proof that what my former Summoner said is true, he could file a complaint with the church and have me tested. They’ll use Shades to confirm if I lie.
I’ll have to admit I promised my Summoners passage off the continent.
Something no Shadowbane should ever do.
Something I shouldn’t even know is possible.
“It’s all right,” I whisper to Calvin, though I’m not certain it is. To Henderson, I say, “Is that why you endangered an entire village by having your Summoners forge Shades into a dragon? To punish me for interfering with your budding friendship?”
Henderson shrugs. “I wanted the information Aelfred promised me, and I figured that would hurry you along. If not, your failure would soil your reputation with Prince Leeran. A win either way.”
So he admits it. He truly was responsible for the dragon. Rage courses through me, but I keep my voice nonchalant. “I think I know what this is really about. Still sore about what happened ten years ago?”
His eyes narrow at my change of subject, but he takes the bait.
“I knew back then there was something off about you,” he says, eyes sparking with anger. “You failed your test to join the ranks of trainees, but then what? Lo and behold, you managed to capture the most wanted outlaw of the time. The man I’d spent three years hunting.”
While he speaks, I reach one hand for my belt of vials, unhooking the buckle. I slip out one vial and tuck it up my gauntlet. “Guard this with your life,” I mutter to Calvin, and slowly slide the holster to him.
Henderson scoffs. “You found the criminal where, again? In a tavern? How convenient.”
“You just can’t bear to face your own incompetence,” I say with a wink.
“No, it was something else. You were given special treatment and invited to train as a Shadowbane while your mentor received Prince Leeran’s nomination—an honor that should have been mine.”
I roll my eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me for way too long. Is this why you wanted to chat? To hash out old times?”
He thins his lips as if he only now realizes our conversation has veered far from where he wanted it.
I’m ready to let him seize control again.
I can’t imagine this ending well unless I agree to our damn talk.
One wrong move and he’ll have the Shades behind us closing in.
Even if I could manage to cut through the frenzy without endangering my crew, I’d still have to reverse the wagon off the bridge and flee back the way we came.
Unless I deal with Henderson here and now, he’ll follow us.
At least I have something like a plan.
He straightens, his expression darkening. “Come, Graves. Leave your sword and bring your Summoners.”
I hand the reins over to Calvin, huffing a humorless laugh.
“I’m not leaving my sword or bringing my Summoners.
You’re armed, and I don’t believe for a minute that’s your entire crew.
You normally have five or six Summoners, and I don’t see your favorite.
” I scan the four masked figures, finding none who resembles the older woman from the tavern.
She’s been his Summoner the longest, and if I recall, her name is Abigail.
“Leave the youngest, then,” Henderson says. “I’m not interested in her anyway.”
I bristle. That means he is interested in Inana and Bard.
“And if you insist on meeting as equals…” He unhooks his sword belt and passes it to one of his Summoners. At Henderson’s nod, the Summoner sets it down in the snow behind them. “Satisfied?”
I’d feel better if we both kept our swords, but if he wants a farce, I’ll play.